‘They will attack me if I stay’: immigrants in South Africa flee for safety amid violence and anti-foreigner protests

‘They will attack me if I stay’: Immigrants in South Africa Flee Amid Rising Xenophobia

They will attack me if I stay - As tensions reached a boiling point on Tuesday, South Africa’s citizens braced themselves for widespread demonstrations targeting foreign residents. The unrest, which has escalated over the past several weeks, has led to at least four deaths and forced tens of thousands to seek refuge elsewhere. In Durban, a coastal city long anticipated for violence, the streets were eerily silent, with shopfronts closed and an air of unease permeating the community. Protesters, clad in traditional Zulu attire, marched through the downtown area, wielding sticks and clubs while chanting “Abahambe!”—a phrase echoing the demand for foreigners to depart. This slogan has become a central rallying cry for the movement, which has gained momentum across the nation.

Deadline for Departure and Mass Exodus

Organizers of the protests have imposed an arbitrary deadline, 30 June, for undocumented immigrants to leave the country. Many fear the demonstrations could spiral into full-blown violence, prompting a large-scale exodus. In the days prior to the deadline, thousands of families abandoned their homes, taking refuge in public spaces such as sidewalks, open fields, and makeshift shelters. The hope is that they will be repatriated before the situation worsens. Several African governments have dispatched buses and planes to assist their citizens in returning to their homelands, with police reporting over 25,000 individuals already sent back.

In Pietermaritzburg, a city 50 miles from Durban, the impact of the protests was starkly visible. Hundreds of families had gathered outside an abandoned structure, living in makeshift camps for days. The 29-year-old Malawian national who died in a mob attack on 19 June serves as a grim reminder of the risks faced by foreign residents. Jackson Makungwa, a man who had built a life in South Africa over a decade, stood in line beside two small bags, carrying all he could take from the country. His work permit had expired two years ago, leaving him in a precarious legal position. “I didn’t want to be in the country illegally, but the system won’t let me stay legally,” he lamented, highlighting the bureaucratic challenges immigrants endure.

The protests were triggered by a friend’s attack by seven men, an incident that intensified fears of violence. Makungwa, who had initially resisted his mother’s pleas to leave, now faced an urgent decision. On his phone, he displayed a photo of his son, born to a South African mother, who had not yet received travel documents. “I was forced to leave him behind. He turns two months old today,” he said, underscoring the personal cost of the crisis. The emotional toll on families is profound, with many sacrificing stability for survival.

Impact on Immigrant Communities

Further south, in a temporary camp established by Zimbabwean families, Lydia Mpingashato shared her own story of displacement. She had recently lost her job as a cleaner, leaving her without a clear path forward. Children played nearby as women cooked on open fires, while the community grappled with the reality of their situation. Many, including those with valid documentation, reported being evicted by landlords who feared backlash for housing foreigners. “He said he would burn my house and kill my family,” Mpingashato recalled of a threat she faced while waiting for a shared taxi in her township. “Now I have no plan; I’m just going home to be safe.” Her 17-year-old son, who had grown up in South Africa, expressed disillusionment: “Actually, they never loved us,” he said, reflecting the deepening sense of alienation among immigrant populations.

South Africa’s growing frustration with immigration has roots in broader socio-economic challenges. The nation’s high unemployment rate and rising crime levels have fueled resentment toward foreign residents, particularly those from neighboring African countries. Philile Ntuli of the South African Human Rights Commission noted that xenophobia and afrophobia often emerge at the intersection of economic insecurity, inequality, and poor governance. “These movements are not just about borders,” she explained, “but about competition for resources and opportunities.” The country is home to approximately 2.4 million foreigners, according to the 2022 census, a figure that underscores the scale of the issue.

Historical Context and Government Response

South Africa’s history of anti-immigrant violence dates back decades, with major outbreaks in 2008 and 2015. In 2008, xenophobic riots killed 62 people and displaced over 150,000. A similar wave of attacks in 2015 resulted in at least five fatalities, demonstrating the cyclical nature of the crisis. In response to the latest wave of unrest, the government has accelerated its efforts to curb undocumented immigration. Police have arrested more than 50,000 individuals since January, a move intended to reduce the perceived threat to local communities.

President Cyril Ramaphosa addressed the issue on Monday, meeting with protest leaders to urge caution against unchecked vigilantism. His call for restraint came as the nation prepared for the 30 June deadline, with authorities working to expedite repatriation processes. Despite these measures, many immigrants remain in limbo, their futures uncertain. For Jackson Makungwa, the choice to leave was not made lightly, but the threat of violence made it inevitable. “I’m not running from the country,” he said, “but from the fear that keeps me awake at night.” The emotional and logistical hurdles of departure are immense, with families often forced to abandon possessions and relationships in their haste to escape.

As the protests continue, the question remains: will this latest wave of xenophobia lead to lasting change or further displacement? For those affected, the answer is clear—safety has become the primary goal, even if it means leaving behind the dreams that once brought them to South Africa. The nation’s leaders face the challenge of balancing public sentiment with the need to protect the rights of foreign residents. For now, the streets remain filled with the echoes of a cry for change, and the stories of those who flee serve as a testament to the fragile hope that drives migration.

The psychological impact of the protests extends beyond the immediate physical danger. Immigrants often carry the weight of uncertainty, their identities and futures in question. In Pietermaritzburg, the makeshift camps have become microcosms of this anxiety, where families gather under the stars, their belongings packed tightly, and their resolve tested by each passing day. For some, the exodus is a necessity; for others, it is a painful farewell to the life they once envisioned for themselves in this diverse nation. As the sun rises over the horizon, the task of rebuilding begins, with the hope that the next chapter will be one of reconciliation rather than division.